


Alliance

by my_deer_friend



Series: My Deer Kinktober 2020 [18]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Canon Era, Explicit Sexual Content, Gangbang, Group Sex, John is everyone's gay coach, Kinktober, Kinktober 2020, M/M, Multi, Orgy, PWP, Rare Pairings, Shameless Smut, alex is a slut, everyone is gay-curious, it's really just a bunch of guys having sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:08:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27264760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/my_deer_friend/pseuds/my_deer_friend
Summary: The French have decided to join the war. Washington's aides slip off to celebrate the good news.---(Prompt 27 - orgy, Alex/John/Tilghman/McHenry/Meade)
Relationships: Alexander Hamilton/Everyone, Alexander Hamilton/John Laurens
Series: My Deer Kinktober 2020 [18]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1947265
Comments: 18
Kudos: 59





	Alliance

**Author's Note:**

> Historical accuracy is patchy here but I wanted all these boys in a room together so I made it happen.

Alexander is with the General when the breathless courier brings the news - the French are entering the war. 

At last! Hope has been stretched so thin that when Alexander hears these words, he takes his first full, deep breath in longer than he can remember.

All duty is forgotten. Washington immediately conscripts him to round up the family and as many bottles of wine as he can find. He races out to find Harrison, to make the formal arrangements for the celebratory dinner, then Gibbs - who is prodigious at procuring liquor - and then he seeks out John and flings himself into his arms and they squeeze the breath out of each others’ lungs with delight.

The dinner is one toast after another to French generals and culture and philosophy. Lafayette cries unashamedly and barely sits, pacing the room and proclaiming his joy in a blend of French and English that they all become drunk enough to understand, somehow.

Then the General departs with Harrison and Gibbs and his most senior commanders, a giddy Lafayette among them, to talk and smoke, and to plan. The rest of the family clatters up the stairs to the tiny garrett Alexander shares with John, splitting off briefly only to shuck coats and cravats or retrieve flasks. The aides all have their private stashes; whiskey rations carefully husbanded for when they will be needed most - moments of anguish or, less frequently, of joy. 

By the time they are all squeezed in there - Alexander, John, Tilghman, Meade, McHenry - they are all knocking knees and elbows and running the risk of setting the entire place alight by bumping over a candle. So they blow them out, leaving only the mellow light from the little fireplace, and celebrate. 

They’ve already had wine in excess, and considering the recent dearth of alcohol at camp their tolerance has fallen - but that does not inhibit the enthusiasm with which they demolish their spirits. 

Soon enough they are rowdy; god knows what it must sound like to those below, all the laughing and singing and stamping and calling out of toasts and jokes and giddy taunts against the British. The celebrating inevitably devolves into dancing, even though there really is no room for it and their drunken bodies have nowhere near the coordination required to avoid bumps and bruises. Mostly they just stumble and collide and then reach out flailing hands to steady themselves against each other and the furniture - and if Alexander happens to allow John more touches than is prudent in company, it does not seem that anyone notices or concerns themselves. 

When they have danced themselves out, red-faced and laughing, Alexander and John collapse into a heap onto the cot they share while the others continue to stomp and prance in a mad circle. Alexander’s cheeks are flushed from the alcohol and exertion, and the rare joy of celebrating unadulterated good news in excellent company. But then John sidles closer and Alexander’s blush becomes deeper, because there are fingers snaking under the back of his shirt where it has come untucked from his breeches.

It is already hot in the tiny space, with the fire and so many bodies, but it becomes stifling when John leans his chest against the side of Alexander’s arm and whispers in his ear, “Kiss me.”

Alexander turns to him in surprise - they are, after all, not alone, even if the company is friendly and discreet - but before he can say anything, John leans in and takes his lips in a soft, insistent kiss.

Alexander’s eyes shoot wide open as the din around them falls silent and the aides turn one after the other to stare at them. He cannot move for shock. A moment later, John pulls back just an inch and opens his eyes.

“Jack--?”

John smiles, blue eyes dark with lust and whiskey. His free hand comes to rest on the side of Alexander’s face, and the hot fingers caress the curve of his jaw for just a second before both hands tighten insistently and Alexander is drawn forward against him again.

This kiss is less gentle.

He doesn’t know what madness has taken John to dare such a display - it must be the liquor, surely - but since there is no denying their action now, and since his inclination towards sensibility has eroded in proportion to his inebriation, Alexander allows himself to melt into John's mouth. He reaches up into the honey hair, the powder long since faded out, and shifts his seat so that they are better angled to press their bodies together.

The room is still silent around them when John parts his lips and darts his tongue forward, and Alexander feels the hot flush of arousal course down his spine. Such intimacy, here - in the midst of their friends! He can feel all of the eyes on him, yet he does not stop.

John rakes his fingers up his spine and Alexander spills a groan into John's mouth.

He feels the energy of the room shift, like a sudden change in the air pressure before a storm - it becomes heavier, laden, not with dread or danger but with something far more delicious.

The cot shifts as somebody comes to sit behind him.

Another hand touches him. He shudders as it brushes carefully along the rise of his shoulder blade and up to the curve of his neck. He would know the feel of those fingers anywhere - the careful hands that ministered to him as he lay for weeks in the grip of a deathly fever. McHenry.

Alexander opens his eyes again, pulls back from the kiss and looks pleadingly at John for guidance. This is beyond any parameters that they have agreed; beyond anything that would be allowed by law or morality.

John is studying him. There is challenge in his eyes, and recklessness, and passion - but also a silent offer and an anticipation of his answer. Then McHenry’s lips are right behind his ear, brushing against his hair. “Hammy?” he asks, low and rough.

Alexander understands that they are asking the same impossible thing. 

“Yes,” he breathes.

An instant later, John's arms are around his waist, pressing Alexander flush against his chest and lifting and dragging him astride his thighs. From his new seat, Alexander feels the nudge of John's arousal - and he’s already hard, just from this scant contact and the promise of what is to come. Alexander shifts his hips forward and smiles at John's appreciative hum, then feels himself being dragged forward again into those divine lips.

For a second, it is just them, alone, together, as they have been so many times before. 

Then the bed creaks and shifts again.

Alexander feels the heat of bodies moving closer. A new hand touches his trembling hip.

John squeezes his arms more tightly around his back and growls at the interloper without relinquishing the kiss, feral and possessive like he’s forgotten what they have just wordlessly agreed - or perhaps just to make clear his claim. The hand withdraws - but a moment later it is stroking down Alexander’s thigh, and then another is on his waist, and then on his lower back and his buttocks and the nape of his neck and there is no fending them off anymore. 

John devours his desperate, overwhelmed whimpers.

Somebody pulls loose the ribbon tying his hair and then threads fingers through his plait to loosen his auburn curls.

Alexander feels a body moving behind him, and then there is heat all along his back as someone kneels over John's legs and presses up against him - and then hands are on his hips to raise and angle him so that somebody’s groin can push into the flesh of his ass, the cock hot and hard even through the layers of fabric. He gasps in delight against John's lips, and John inhales the sound into another impassioned kiss.

Without pulling back from the kiss, Alexander grinds his buttocks into the prodding shaft and earns a groan - that is Meade’s voice, unmistakably. The fingers on his hips tighten urgently, and then that cock starts to prod against him with more insistence. 

Alexander hums encouragingly.

A different hand comes up to his hair, grabs a fistful and drags his head back firmly, tearing him away from John's glorious mouth and out of his strong arms and more firmly against Meade’s tensed thighs - and then hot, panting lips are attacking his throat, right at the sensitive point that shoots brilliant bolts of arousal down his spine and into his stiffening shaft.

Alexander moans, and John laughs. “You have the right spot, Tench,” he says, “But do not be afraid to use your teeth as well.”

Almost at once, Alexander feels the kiss turn into a bite, and his breath catches as his overwhelmed cock throbs. “Oh, _fuck,_ ” he sighs. 

He feels a responding exhale of delight where the teeth are worrying his skin.

John has his hands free now, and he puts them to torturous use - stroking Alexander’s most sensitive places, then guiding the unpracticed hands, tongues and lips of their companions to evoke a symphony of sounds from Alexander’s mouth. There are touches - too many to track - on all the most delicate parts of his body. Throat. Inner thighs. The warm curve of his belly just before it disappears into his breeches. Behind his ear. His cheek. His lips. His ankles. His wrists. That cock still digging into his ass, now throbbing intently as its owner slips one hand past the top of his breeches and caresses his hip.

And more, and more, and more--

\--but no one is touching him in the _one_ place he most desperately needs it.

“Jack!” he whines, because John is clearly the one guiding these proceedings.

“Yes?” John says, cool and steady.

Alexander is not expecting to need his words. He makes a frustrated sound, trying to convey what must surely be obvious - because with all the hands overwhelming and trapping him, he cannot even grind forward to sate his own needs.

“Don’t mind his desperate noises,” John says conversationally, then leans forward so that his lips are pressed against the side of Alexander’s neck. “You must be _patient,_ Alexander. Once they have all had you for as long as they please, it will be my turn. And only once I am satisfied will you be allowed your release.”

He shudders. “Oh, lord.”

A hum of anticipation spreads among them. But Alexander has never been patient in his passions; he needs more now, _especially_ now - there is too much sensation and it is driving him senseless.

“Jack, _please,_ ” he begs, feeling a frisson of shame at needing to lay bare his desperation so publicly.

In response, John raises one leg and grinds his thigh cruelly against Alexander’s groin. 

Alexander yelps and jerks away. 

John looks up past his shoulder. “Hold him still, won’t you?” 

Alexander feels the grip on his hips turn firm and heavy. Then a hand is back in his hair, and another clamps down just above his knee, with a matching hand on his shoulder. Oh god--

“You were begging for this, just a breath ago,” John teases, and then - _fuck_ \- forces his thigh up against him again and Alexander chokes out an agonised groan because he cannot shift away from the sharp, maddening pressure - at once a blinding hurt and _exactly_ what he wants. His hands claw desperately at John’s leg, but there is no escape until John decides to release him.

Frustrated as he is, the loss of even this maddening contact makes him whine with need.

As though this sound is a summons, he feels the sensation of the others drawing nearer again, the room becoming closer, and without preamble, urgent hands start pulling off his clothes. The shirt flies off over his head, fanning his hair around his face, and fingers - two different sets - tug off his stockings. John makes quick work of the buttons on his breeches and yanks them down as far as they will go, given the position of his legs - down to Alexander’s mid-thighs, exposing the swell of his buttocks and the obscene curve of his engorged cock. He hears murmurs and inhales, and he flushes red.

“Take these off and turn around,” John orders. 

The bodies part just enough for Alexander to totter up to his unstable legs, shaking more from arousal now than alcohol. He allows the breeches and smallclothes to slide off him, then crawls eagerly over so that his back is to John’s chest and he has taken up his position astride his hips once again.

John gathers his wrists into one hand behind his back and places his other hand on the inside of Alexander’s right thigh, tugging his leg wider and then stroking gently along the sensitive skin there. 

Alexander lowers his gaze and bites his lip. A part of him is ashamed to be exposed like this, vulnerable and lewd even in this darkness, but the greater fraction is flaming with fresh arousal. The flush in his cheeks burns down his neck and to his chest. John leans forward and puts his chin on Alexander’s shoulder.

“He is a beautiful sight, isn’t he?” he says.

Alexander peeks out from under his lashes and sees three sets of dark, lustful eyes on him. But there is a little hesitation there, now that he is naked. Alexander realises that they have not done such a thing with another man, and do not know how to proceed.

As though reading his mind, John speaks. “Do not be shy - come, touch him.” He reaches out a hand to Meade, who takes it, and then draws him down and places the hand on the side of Alexander’s ribcage. “Our Alexander will sing for you if you stroke him just so,” he says, gliding it downward in demonstration. 

Alexander feels the tremble in the unfamiliar fingers and encourages the caress with a hitched little breath. Meade’s hand slips down, then over his hip, and along the outer curve of his thigh. The second sigh Alexander lets out does not need to be embellished.

“Fuck,” Meade whispers.

Tilghman dives forward and settles on his other side, a little more daring now that the line has been crossed. Alexander tilts his head back, so Tilghman places a hand lightly over his throat, then slides it slowly down the centre of his chest and to his navel, then back up, then down, his expression mesmerised - though he does not go lower. Alexander groans and shifts his hips forward desperately, but he is being held too firmly in John’s wicked grip. 

John laughs at him fondly.

God, this is driving him mad! Alexander whimpers and shakes with tension, then squeezes his eyes shut as he feels tears of frustration dampening his lashes.

McHenry moves towards him now, and lowers himself so that he is kneeling between Alexander’s wide-splayed legs. He brings both hands to the sides of Alexander’s face, and strokes his cheek with his thumb. There is a flicker of concern in his darkened eyes.

“Is this okay, Hammy?” he asks softly, leaning in closer.

Alexander meets his gaze, and rather than speaking, he strains forward and kisses him. Their lips and teeth clash and McHenry lets out a startled breath before tightening the grip on Alexander’s jaw and lowering his face to deepen the kiss. Alexander presses his chest forward, then tries to buck his hips against McHenry’s thigh, but John catches him.

“Behave,” he admonishes, then reaches out and smacks him, hard, on the curve of his rump. Alexander yelps against McHenry’s lips but doesn’t surrender the kiss. “You’re so wanton, Alexander, that I’m sure you’d go off at a single touch - which is why I will not allow it. It’s for your own good, dear boy, if you do not want to suffer through the uses that our friends will put you to.” 

Alexander whines, but he stills his hips. It takes a momentous effort, because just the thought of all these men inside him, taking their turns--

Fuck! He sighs eagerly into McHenry’s kiss, and when McHenry pulls away his eyes are molten and smiling.

John’s hand releases its grip on his inner thigh and glides up his body, along his neck, and around the curve of his jaw.

“Alexander offers many pleasures,” John says, running a thumb over his bottom lip, “But this is a true delight.” He releases Alexander’s wrists. “Get on the floor, on your knees.”

Alexander scrambles to comply, thrilled at last for a chance to take a more active role in his own debauching. 

John rises from the cot and comes to stand behind him. His right hand tangles into Alexander’s hair and his left comes back down to the side of his jaw. “Now, Alex, open your mouth and show our friends how talented you are.”

He licks his lips and obeys, pushing his tongue out a little to entice them forward, but it’s hardly needed. They crowd up around him. Tilghman unbuttons his breeches and his cock springs free as soon as it’s released from the fabric. He nudges the tip against Alexander’s lips, who curls up his tongue in response, eliciting a low, rough, incredulous laugh. Alexander cannot shift his head out of John's firm grip, so he wraps his lips around the cockhead and sucks, trying to draw the shaft into his mouth.

But then Tilghman withdraws, and suddenly it is McHenry’s cock in his mouth - at once the same and utterly different. Alexander attempts the trick again, but John digs his fingers into the hinge of his jaw. “I only told you to open your mouth,” he admonishes. 

Meade surges forward now, more eager, and he is close enough that Alexander can properly savour him, engulf him with lips and tongue. But again he is deprived, and McHenry is back, bolder, letting Alexander take him deeper - but only for a moment before another cock slides onto his tongue. 

They go back and forth like that, taking turns in his mouth, until Alexander can no longer keep track of who is filling him or do anything other than receive them - tongue out, jaw burning, heavy panting breaths through his nose.

After an eternity of this misuse, John’s low voice breaks through. “Alex has tasted you, but his appetite is bigger than that.” John drags back on his hair, so that Alexander is looking up at him, his saliva-slicked lips still parted. “Is that not so, darling? Are you not yearning for a cock to take you deeper?”

“God, yes,” Alexander breathes.

“And who shall have the pleasure?”

Meade’s hand joins John's in his hair, dragging his back into position rendering his head immobile, as his cock slides in past his willing lips to nudge right at the back of his mouth. 

"Come on, Kidder, he can take you further than that," John goads, then his hand flashes out and he grabs onto Meade’s shirt. Without further warning, John tugs him forward, and the stiff cock forces right past Alexander’s defences and breaches his throat. Alexander chokes; his spasming throat makes Meade curse, but John holds him firmly in place and Meade shows no desire to withdraw in any case. 

As soon as his choking abates, John encourages Meade to push in all the way, ignoring Alexander’s instinctive sounds of distress, then takes Meade’s hand to let him feel the swell where his shaft is pushing out against the tender flesh of Alexander's neck. 

"Good lord," Meade groans. 

"And he'll take more than that. Give our Alexander a chance to show his stamina."

Meade needs no further encouragement to draw back and start thrusting down into the resisting circle of his throat, and Alexander surrenders to the invasion; he can do nothing to brace against the punishing pace as Meade fucks vigorously into his mouth. 

Alexander makes a melody of wet sounds in harmony with the frantic, breathless groans above him.

Amid even this assault, he becomes aware of John's rigid shaft pressing against the back of his head, still clothed and untouched, and he moans in yearning for it. The vibration must set Meade off, and a moment later he grips Alexander’s face hard with both hands, and jerks and thrusts his hot gush of semen down his throat. 

Alexander swallows it down, then coughs as the cock pulls free. A little of the seed and his own saliva trails out of his mouth with it. But as soon as he is released, he turns his face, heedless of the pull of his hair, and nuzzles his cheek against John's member.

“Jack,” he murmurs.

John gazes down and smiles fondly. “What do you need, dear boy?”

Alexander looks up through his lashes. “You,” he breathes, then adds after a moment’s consideration, “And for someone to fuck me.”

John smiles down at him with delight. “Of course. Get up onto the bed and prepare yourself. We shall watch, and if your performance is adequate, we might just grant your request.”

Alexander eases up off the hard floor and crawls onto the cot, then reaches for the little flask of oil in its hidden spot behind the writing desk and coats his fingers generously. He positions himself on hands and knees, then lowers his face and chest to the bed so that his buttocks is up and exposed. Gripping tight to the blanket at his head with one hand, he reaches the other between his legs - careful to avoid brushing his cock for fear that he would not be able to resist even this meagre pressure - and slides his fingers between his cheeks.

He finds his entrance. John usually does this for him, quick and firm, so it is an unusual sensation to feel his own slim finger slicking his rim, then pushing inside as far as he can reach. He adds a second on the next stroke, and his third just a few later - too much and too soon, but the stretch is aching and divine. 

Overwrought by the sinful feel of stretching himself with his fingers in the thick atmosphere with all of these eager eyes on him, he lets out a desperate wordless whimper. It breaks the moment of tension, and they all tear off their clothing and crowd hastily onto the bed with him - all except John, who holds his gaze as he calmly removes his waistcoat, then his breeches, then his shirt, and then comes to sit at Alexander’s head with his strong thighs bracketing him.

John must give a signal that Alexander cannot see, because suddenly he is being touched again. Perhaps they have grown in confidence now that he has serviced them, or they’ve seen that he enjoys a firmer hand - or perhaps they are all just so overcome by arousal that care has been abandoned - but the touches are rougher and more inflamed now. 

He feels nails raking up his sides and back down his spine, so he arches to give a better view of where his fingers are working earnestly. A bruising grip pulls his leg wider, and a mouth descends to the delicate place at the very top of his thigh to kiss and suck - and then _bite_. He chokes off a cry.

John’s hand rests on his head, stroking gently at his hair - incongruous compared to the erotic assaults elsewhere on his body. Alexander nuzzles along John’s thigh, stifling his sounds against the firm muscles - but it isn’t close enough. He needs the taste and weight of his John to steady him.

Alexander pushes out his tongue and runs it along the inside of John’s leg, right to the crease of his thigh, then nuzzles against his cock.

“Please, Jack,” he whispers, “I want to feel you, while they--” His words dissolve into a gasp as another finger slips into him, beside his own.

John’s fingers tighten in his hair. “Well then, you know your duty.”

He does. Alexander extracts his fingers and rises up onto his elbows, slipping his hands around the backs of John’s legs and around to his hips. He parts his lips and swallows his lover down right to the entrance of his throat; no sucking, no licking, just holding the cock hot and steady in his mouth.

John settles more comfortably, spreading his legs wide but keeping a commanding hand on the back of Alexander’s head, ensuring that he does not pull off.

"Who shall have the pleasure?" John asks.

McHenry demurs and Meade is spent, so Tilghman shifts and settles between Alexander’s splayed legs. He is about to press inside when John halts him.

“Our Alexander is not opposed to a little rough treatment,” John says, “But slick yourself or you’ll be raw afterwards.” He hands across the bottle, and Alexander hears the sound of the shaft behind him being oiled. 

John tugs sharply at his hair and looks down. "I want to feel every inch of him breaching you, understood?"

Alexander glances up through his lashes, then nods around the cock filling his mouth. John's hand relaxes and returns to rest on his hair, but only to stroke sweetly now and to tickle behind his ear as Alexander finally feels the yearned-for nudge of a cockhead at his entrance. He groans in anticipation of it.

John's other hand finds one of the hands clenched around his hip and takes hold of it. “I am here,” he says, suddenly soft and reassuring, and squeezes his hand tightly. 

Alexander squeezes back. Then he growls low in his throat as he is penetrated; he has stretched himself, but only barely, and Tilghman needs to push himself inside his still tight and resisting body. Every inch is a perfect aching wonder, and Alexander sings his delight directly into John’s cock. And then, finally, John shows a crack in his composure - a little hitched inhale and a tensing in his thighs.

"Christ!" Tilghman chokes out, only half seated. "Kidder, you surrendered yourself too soon, my friend!" 

Meade laughs. 

Tilghman pushes in, firm and steady, until he is buried to the root. When he does not move again, as though waiting for him to adjust, Alexander hums an encouraging note and cants his hips back. He needs friction more than he needs care.

“Eager?” Tilghman teases, then pulls back part-way and thrusts forward experimentally. 

Alexander lets out a muffled groan. 

“He likes that,” John says lightly, only a slight catch in his voice. “But you do not need to be so gentle.”

Thank god for John!

Tilghman huffs in amusement and sets to it, first with a few more cautious strokes and then, when Alexander keeps urging him on with little stuttering shifts of his hips, he starts to go faster. He shows remarkable stamina as he sets a vigorous pace, one hand gripped tight to the side of Alexander’s thigh and the other caressing up and down his lower back. 

As Tilghman fucks him, rhythmic and relentless, Alexander feels himself slipping into a delirious trance as he is pinned between the cocks inside him, shifting up and down around John with every thrust into his ass, his own heavy member still achingly untouched. He doesn’t know how long it is until he feels his friend’s pace speeding up with fresh urgency - but then he is thrown out of his mellow delirium when the change of angle grinds Tilghman’s cock mercilessly against his prostate. He claws into John’s hip and mewls in overstimulated yearning.

“Oh, very good,” John sighs - Alexander is not sure who he is praising - and shifts in response, jostling the back of his throat. Alexander gags around it and forces himself to relax and adjust, trying to balance his breathing with his need to vocalise his pleasure.

Tilghman builds to a sudden blistering pace and then jams himself deep down with a groan and a hot, sinful rush of fluid. He leans forward to catch his breath, and Alexander’s legs shake with the strain of his weight.

Then he whines when Tilghman and John pull their cocks out of him at the same time, leaving him empty and bereft and with hot semen trickling down the inside of his thigh. John has mastered himself again, even though he is harder and more flushed than before, and Alexander sucks the humid, smoky air of the room deep into his lungs.

He feels shifting, and then a new body against his, and hands turning him onto his back. His head comes to rest between John's legs, their hands still gripped together tightly, as McHenry moves forward and settles between his thighs. He leans forward, places one hand next to Alexander’s head and wraps the other elbow around the back of Alexander’s thigh, drawing his leg up and angling his hips for a better approach. 

Alexander feels McHenry’s cock nudging his entrance, but there is still something like hesitation in his eye, so Alexander holds his gaze and curls his hips up encouragingly. McHenry closes his eyes for a second, but when he opens them, he is smiling.

“You’re beautiful, Hammy,” he murmurs, then tugs up the leg an inch further and pushes inside him. The way is slicked by oil and Tilghman’s release, so McHenry is fully seated a moment later, and they sigh in tandem as their bodies lock together. McHenry stills there, then lowers himself so that he can place a tender kiss on Alexander’s forehead. 

Alexander tilts his chin up and finds McHenry’s lips with his own, then signals his eagerness with a roll of his hips. McHenry sighs into his mouth, draws out his cock almost to the tip, then pushes in again, slow but relentless. After the firm pounding he’s received, this slowness is agony - and yet he’s so sensitive that every nudge and throb is magnified.

He slides his free hand to the back of McHenry’s knee and uses the leverage to angle up his hips and meet the slow strokes with thrusts of his own. It isn’t long before McHenry is increasing his pace and breathing hard; but when he tries to pull back from the kiss, perhaps to get air, Alexander traps his bottom lip between his teeth and keeps him close.

McHenry slides a hand around the back of Alexander’s head and presses their foreheads together. His eyes squeeze shut as his thrusts go from controlled to frantic, but Alexander keeps his eyes on McHenry’s face as he melts into pleasure.

“Please, Mac,” he whispers. 

“Fuck, Hammy, god, you--”

Alexander tilts his hips and clenches down hard; McHenry groans against his cheek and stutters into him and then collapses, shuddering. 

John squeezes his hand, and Alexander squeezes back.

Alexander traces his hand up from McHenry’s knee, along his back and to the side of his face. McHenry heaves himself up onto his elbows. Alexander smiles at him.

“Thank you, Mac.”

McHenry lowers his lips to Alexander’s sweat-covered forehead and gives him a breathless kiss. “Thank _you,_ my friend.”

McHenry eases out of him, and Alexander feels the fresh, hot ooze of semen leaking from him. His cock is still heavy and eager on his belly.

Despite his abused flesh and flooded senses, there is still one thing he needs more than air itself. 

“Jack.”

“Come here, my dear.”

Alexander pushes up on his arms, then turns and crawls over until he is back on John’s lap, a ravenous smile on his face. John runs a hand through Alexander’s sweat-soaked hair.

“Still not sated?” he teases, as his hand comes to rest on Alexander’s waist and his thumb strokes along the hollow of his hip. 

Alexander sighs into the touch. “Never without you,” he murmurs, and before John can give him the command, Alexander reaches down to John’s cock, holds him steady and lowers himself down. Even now, after being fucked so thoroughly, John stretches him deliciously - and the burn from the rough use just heightens his pleasure.

“You’re filthy,” John murmurs. “I’ve never felt you so slick.”

“You let our friends play with me, Jack,” Alex says, then raises himself up and grinds back down, forcing a moan out of John’s mouth that echoes his own sigh. “They have made a mess.”

There is a swell of laughter around them.

John leans in to pepper kisses on his collarbone. “But you are mine now,” he hums and he tightens his hand on Alexander’s hip.

“Now, and always.”

Eager for John to break and let loose, Alexander sets a breathless pace right away, raising and lowering himself through the burn in his exhausted thighs and the ache deep inside, spurred on by the building tenor of John’s sighs of pleasure. 

Finally, John allows himself to be unmanned. He lets out a deep, low growl, then takes over - wraps his arm around Alexander’s lower back in an iron grip, and huffs urgently into the hollow of Alexander’s throat as he meets the fall of his hips with thrusts of his own. Alexander chokes down his little cries at every stroke that hits the blazing spot inside him, pushing him higher and higher towards his own climax.

“No,” John breathes urgenty, “Hold on a little longer.”

Alexander grunts in frustration and grits his teeth. He won’t last long, so he clenches down and redoubles his efforts - and John’s movements become more urgent, if no less finessed.

Good lord, he is _drowning_.

Mercifully, a moment later, John drags him down firmly and growls into his skin and spends deep inside him. Alexander claws onto his shoulders, balanced as he is on the knife edge of his own pleasure, trembling and burning with the need to _move_.

John's voice is breathless beside his ear. “What do you need, Alexander? Tell us.”

Alexander feels barely sane, certainly not coherent, when he groans, “Touch me!”

Again the bodies shift around him, loose and hot and comfortable now, and all of the hands are caressing him, everywhere at once. Nails down his thighs and along his calves, palms on his chest and stomach and ribs and waist, fingers on his throat and his brow and his lips and then in his mouth, and John's softening length still seated inside him like fire.

They touch and scratch and press until he is sobbing with how perfect this feels and how desperately, urgently unsated he still is.

“ _Please,_ Jack!”

And almost at once that familiar slicked grip is wrapped around his straining length, and he keens at the flood of instant heat in his groin. John shifts at once to a vigorous pace and Alexander matches him with stuttering thrusts of his aching hips.

“Come for us,” John murmurs - and this is all he needs to spill forth a moment later, hot and immense, covering John’s hand and chest in his spurting seed.

He loses all his breath and his strength then, but he does not collapse, because his friends are all around, holding and stroking his flanks, and leaving soft, tender kisses all over his neck and shoulders and arms. Alexander curls into John’s chest and languishes in their affections.

No more words are spoken.

The others leave quietly, gathering clothing and whiskey flasks as they go, and the agreement that they will keep all of this to themselves is clear despite being unspoken. John turns and lies down on his back, then holds open the blanket. Spent and limbless, Alexander slides alongside him and buries himself into the crook of John’s arm, resting his head on John’s shoulder. John tucks him closer and presses his face to Alexander’s tangled curls, then brings up his free hand to trace lightly up and down the arm Alexander has draped across his chest.

Alexander is entirely content; he suspects that even a cannonball through their wall would not get him up now.

They lie quietly together like this, tired but not yet ready to sleep, for a long while.

“Oh!” Alexander says suddenly, startling John out of his doze, “Gil will be upset that he was not here.”

John snorts into his hair. 

Alexander starts tracing thoughtful circles on John’s chest. “Perhaps you should invite him to join us, next time,” he suggests with a teasing smile.

“Ever the generous friend, Alex?”

Alexander shrugs. “The offer is not entirely unselfish.”

John laughs again, but then hums thoughtfully. “As delightful as it was to see you so debauched, I do not think I want to share you again.”

Alexander smiles into John’s chest. “Your claim is not in question, Jack.”

“I know.”

Exhausted though he is, Alexander pushes himself up to look at John, who gazes back intently. Alexander takes hold of the hand that has been stroking along his arm and presses it to his own chest, where his heart has fallen into the steady, contented rhythm it takes on when John is holding him.

“I am entirely yours,” Alexander says, then leans forward just enough to kiss John tenderly. John is smiling softly when he pulls back. “Now, Jack, and forever.”


End file.
